Of the past
by Elf-Vulcan
Summary: Jack tells Will of Bootstrap Turner's past...and his own. NOT SLASH. First two chapters rewritten. Yay!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own POTC. That's owned by Disney, and I doubt that they're gonna share. Oh well...  
  
Prologue  
  
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Jack took a long draught of rum, then put his tankard down with a thunk.  
  
"That there's some good rum, eh mate?" He asked, topping off his drink, and then Will's.  
  
"As good as any I suppose." Will responded, taking a swig from his now replenished drink.  
  
Jack looked at him, feigning surprise. "'As good as any'?! What d'ye mean by that? Why this 'ere rum's better then any I've ever had." Jack grinned and waited for Will to respond.  
  
But Will didn't say anything. He'd taken one or two more gulps of rum, and then had resorted to absently swirling it around in his tankard  
  
Jack watched him do this for a few moments. Finally he sat back and folded his arms.  
  
"All right mate, enough o' that. Ye're makin' me seasick watchin' ye."  
  
Will stopped and focused on Jack.  
  
Jack continued. "What's been eatin' ye lately? Ye've been moping around like a captain who's had his ship sunk."  
  
Will was rather surprised. It wasn't in Jack's nature to care what other people were feeling. Or at least, not to show it like this. But since he'd brought it up...  
  
"Jack, can I ask you a question?"  
  
Jack cocked his head slightly. "What might ye be wantin' to know?"  
  
Will took a deep breath. It was now or never.  
  
"I was wondering about my father. What was he like? What'd he do? Why," He paused, then plunged ahead. "Why was he was willing to risk being punished in protest of your being marooned?" He looked Jack right in the eye. "How'd you know him Jack?"  
  
Jack was silent for a moment. He drank down the last of his rum and then returned Will's steady gaze.  
  
"I should've figgered ye'd ask me that sooner or later. But I'm warnin' ye, it's a long tale."  
  
Will could see that Jack was taking this seriously. This puzzled him. It was highly unusual for Jack to be serious about anything.  
  
"I'm listening."  
  
"Alright. Here she goes."  
  
With that, Jack launched into a tale of the past. Bootstrap Turner's past...and his own.  
  
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A/N: Well, there you have it mates. I would appreciate any and all reviews. Constructive criticism is most welcome. 


	2. June 7, 1692

A/N: Just a warning. This one chapter could probably nab an R rating for violence. It's historical violence though. Believe me I couldn't even begin to imagine the kinds of things that actually happened in Port Royal on June 7, 1692. I doubt that date means much now, but I'll explain at the end. Y'all have been warned though.  
  
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Nine-year-old Jack stumbled down the main street of Port Royal. It had been a few minutes since the last tremor had had shaken the ground out from under his feet. The going was slow as he tried to make his way back to the building where he lived with his mother in a small apartment.  
  
He dodged rubble and people, trying his best to avoid tripping over the rubble and corpses strewn across the street. Even more dangerous were the jagged chasms that split the cobblestones. Many people had fallen into them only to be washed back up and then crushed when the chasms closed back up. Jack tried not to think about that as he struggled on down the street.  
  
"Get out o' the way boy!" A burly man shoved him to the side with a large, tattoo laced arm. Jack went down hard, smacking his head on the cobblestones. He moaned and rolled his head to the side, too dazed for the moment to get up.  
  
What he saw shocked him back to his senses.  
  
He was staring straight into the face of a beautiful blond woman. Dead. Her body crushed when one of the chasms had closed on her. Only her head was visible, leaning at an impossible angle. The woman's lifeless brown eyes were staring right into Jack's own.  
  
He screamed...  
  
It was his mother.  
  
"C'mon! If ye stay there ye'll be trampled fer sure!"  
  
A hand grabbed Jack from behind and hauled him to his feet.  
  
"No! Momma!" Jack yelled trying to pull away from the man who had grabbed him. The man appeared to be about ten years older then Jack, and had a grip that he couldn't escape.  
  
Jack could barely see through his tears. He tripped over a brick and fell again.  
  
The man stopped and swore under his breath. He lifted Jack onto one shoulder. He then continued moving through the streets carrying Jack like a sack of potatoes. He occasionally had to slow his pace to pick his way through more treacherous areas.  
  
Suddenly, the he stopped. Jack twisted around to see over the man's shoulders.  
  
A tall man with several gold teeth and a nasty looking scar across his forehead was aiming a pistol at them. Without really thinking about what he was doing Jack kicked out as hard as he could. He caught the pistol with his foot and sent it flying to the side. The man took this opportunity to neatly shoot the man with his own pistol.  
  
Bang!  
  
Jack clapped his hands over his ears. He'd never been that close to a gun when it went off before.  
  
The man continued on. Jack, meanwhile, finally succumbed to exhaustion and grief. He passed out.  
  
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Jack woke up several hours later in a small bunk. The man who had rescued Jack was sitting on a trunk in between the bunks filling the room.  
  
"So ye've finally decided to wake up 'ave you?" The man's voice was calm and rather young sounding. "What's yer name lad?"  
  
"Jack." He answered, then asked. "Where am I?"  
  
Why ye're on The Flying Sparrow lad!" The man responded with a grin. He was obviously quite proud of the ship.  
  
Jack's eyes grew wide. "Is this a pirate ship?"  
  
The man chuckled. "Well, some people might call 'er that. I prefer to call 'er home."  
  
Home...  
  
It all came back to Jack's still foggy mind: The earthquake, the escape from the ruined Port Royal, his mother...dead.  
  
Tears started to flow down his cheeks again. The man put a rough hand gently on the lad's shoulder.  
  
"Did ye have some family back there?" He asked kindly.  
  
"My mamma." Jack managed to choke out. "She's dead. I saw her."  
  
"I'm sorry lad. Truly I am."  
  
After a few minutes Jack was able to choke back his tears. "But why did you save me?" He asked, wiping his eyes. "You're a pirate! I thought all pirates were bad."  
  
The man smiled sadly. "I had a brother that was ye're age when I left home, and ye remind me a little of him. I couldn't stand to leave ye there. Me shipmates say I'm soft, and maybe I am, but I rather like to think that a man can be a pirate and a good man at the same time." He chuckled quietly. "Besides, me shipmates leave me alone 'cause I'm the best cook this 'ere ship's ever 'ad."  
  
He got up. "C'mon. It's time I showed ye what ye're gonna be doing to earn yer keep. The only way the captain would let ye on was fer me to sign ye on as cook's helper."  
  
Jack wiped his eyes once more and then climbed out of the bunk. He followed the man out of the bunk room and down a corridor.  
  
"Oh, by the way lad," the man said over his shoulder. "Me name's Turner. William Turner."  
  
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A/N: Alright there ya have it mates. Now for the explanation I promised. On June 7, 1692 and earthquake struck Port Royal. The port, at that time in history, was built on a coral reef. Cobblestone streets, two story houses and all. The earthquake sunk 2/3 of the city. It all just slid into deeper water. An estimated 3,000 people died. The weird thing is, what happened to Jack's mother is true. The ground cracked and some people were washed by the sea into the chasms, and back out again. Unfortunately some didn't make it all the way out and were crushed with just their heads above ground [shudder]. Some came up in completely different parts of town then where they had fallen in. Some even came up out at sea. Like I said, I couldn't possible have begun to make that up. 


End file.
